The Horsemaster's Queen
by eomerandme123
Summary: Lirah is a young half-human half-elven princess whose only goals in life are to revenge herself upon her father and to find somewhere where she belongs. When she meets Eomer king of Rohan the question is will she find a home or will she suffer more sorrow
1. Chapter 1

Lord of The Rings continuation fanfic

She felt her hand shaking as she approached the large wooden door of the hall. Walking up the stone steps, she grasped the sword hilt, and pushing open the door stepped inside.

Aragorn looked up absentmindedly as the door was opened. His fingers drummed against the marble throne. A hooded figure approached him. He assumed it was a man wearing the black cloak, but he could not tell since the persons face was hidden.

"My lord, Aragorn," said the man, bowing low. The king did not pick up the sarcasm in the mans voice. He gave a small nod, thus allowing the man to step forward.

"Lord Aragorn, I thank you for seeing me today, and I hope I have not inconvenienced you." The stranger went on with speech, listing all the kings wonderful qualities, and his hope for the kings reign to be long and prosperous, and the same hope for the kings son. It was the usual speech given by people who came to ask for favors, which Aragorn usually granted as long as the people had good reason for asking.

"Sir, I thank you for your kind words. Is there anything I may grant you?" asked the king, once the man had finished talking.

Suddenly the man's voice changed, he laughed slightly and said "Only answers, _great_ king. Answers to questions that have to do with our pasts."

Aragorn did not like the man's tone, something in the voice had made him uneasy. "_Our_ pasts? I do not recall ever meeting you before sir, but perhaps that is because I cannot see your face under your hood. If you removed it, I might remember you." The kings own voice had become steely.

"I do not think you would recognize me, even without my hood, my liege. You only knew me for a few days at the most I believe."

Aragorn, despite feeling extremely uncomfortable, was intrigued. "Who are you?" He was surprised when his voice came out a whisper.

And suddenly Aragorn found himself staring at a sword, aimed at his throat.

"Guess who I am," the man laughed softly…lethally. "Think hard, and tell me who you think I am, and maybe I won't want to kill you anymore…as you tried to kill me."

Aragorn's eyes flicked around the room quickly. For some reason none of his guards or soldiers were present. The man apparently saw where he was looking. "There's no one around to protect your precious neck king. It's just you and me."

"What is it you want of me?"

"I already told you. I want answers."

"Well ask and I'll tell you what I can," replied Aragorn calmly. He had handled worse situations.

"How many children do you have?"

Aragorn was surprised by the man's question. Everyone in the land knew he had only one child, his son. "Why, one child of course. My son is my only child."

"Now that's funny, I thought you had two children."

Aragorn was still confused. "I only have one child. A son, with my wife, Arwen." He said this slowly, as though talking to a very young child.

"Only a son? To my knowledge you had a daughter some years ago, but Arwen wasn't your wife back then, was she?" The stranger's voice had cracked mid sentence.

Aragorn felt his throat catch. How did he… "How do you…?"

"How do I know?" asked the man with a laugh. "Oh, I know many things. But since you have just basically confessed to having a daughter with Arwen some years before she was your wife, would you perhaps tell me what happened to your daughter? And why did you deny that you had more than one child?"

The king was stuck. He could not lie anymore. "We weren't married, and as much as we loved eachother, we never thought we would be allowed to marry. If anyone had found out we had a child…"

"So you hid the fact that you had a daughter to protect your names?"

"Yes…"

"Where is the girl now?"

"Dead."

"How do you know?"

"She was a weak sickly child. She died within a few days. The shock of her death almost killed Arwen though. She could barely eat or sleep for months, and no one save I knew why."

"Really?"

Aragorn was about to respond "Yes," when the man moved the sword point closer to the king's throat and growled "You know, I highly doubt that. Now, why don't you tell me what really happened to her? What did you do with her?"

Aragorn's eyes widened in shock. "You know the truth then?" he asked?

"What? That you left your daughter in the wild, to die, when she was three days old. That you lied to Arwen and told her the child was dead, so that neither of you would get in trouble. No, I had no idea whatsoever."

"How do you know all this?"

"Never mind that, it's not important."

"Who are you?" the king asked with a growl. If this man told the queen of what he had done, he could not imagine what it might do to her. She might die of grief, knowing that her child might have lived.

"Again, it's not important who I am. What's more important is what you did. You actually attempted to murder your own daughter. Didn't you feel any remorse, or do you only have love for your son you sick bastard? What would your people think of what you did?"

"What does it matter now, she's dead. Why bring up a girl dead so long ago. She's not alive, and we can't bring her back by talking about her."

"You think she's dead? She's not, and she knows everything about you and what you did to her. She was found by dwarves, who sheltered her for 10 years, until they turned her over to some wood elves. They recognized her as one of them, and raised her never knowing who she really was. But she knew, because the dwarves told her who she was and what her name was, for they saw you that day when you left her to die."

Aragorn couldn't breathe. She was alive! He still felt just as guilty as he had felt since that day he had left his daughter on that mountain. But now at least he knew he hadn't murdered his daughter, the flesh of his flesh. Alive!

"You look surprised. Do you wish you had just finished it, rather than just left it to the wild animals of the mountain? You do, don't you? I can see it in your eyes."

The sword point was shaking, the man's hand was unsteady.

And then suddenly the sword was on the ground.

Legolas was standing behind the man, a bloody knife in his hand. He had seen the man pointing his sword at the king. Sneaking up behind the cloaked stranger, he had stabbed the man.

The cloaked man was lying on the ground in front of Aragorn, clutching his side. His hood had fallen off.

Except he was a woman. And there was something incredibly familiar about her face.

"Who are you?" asked Aragorn, shocked, kneeling down next to the woman.

She looked up, grimacing, and hissed into his ear, "Why, have you missed me father?"

Lirah lost conciousness almost immediately.

"Do you know what you've done?" Aragorn shouted. He picked up the bleeding girl. He could barely keep himself from reaching over to strangle Legolas.

"She had a sword at your throat, what else would you expect me to do?"

"Well, here, take her," he breathed, putting her in Legolas's arms. "Have her seen by a doctor in one of the downstairs rooms. Make sure he tells no one she is here. And most importantly make sure that no matter what she does not speak to my wife."

Legolas asked calmly, "Who is she?"

"Someone I thought was dead."

He knew Aragorn wasn't going to elaborate; carrying the bleeding girl, he left the room.

Lirah's eyes opened. She was staring at a stone ceiling. Looking around she saw she was in a small room, with no window. There was a table and chair in one corner, a nightstand by her bed, and the white tree of Gondor was painted on the wall next to the bed she was in. She tried to sit up.

The second she had moved, a searing pain shot through her side. She put her hand on the spot where the pain had come from, and looked down. There was dried blood on her dress, where she had been stabbed.

"So, you're awake?" Someone was standing in the doorway.

"What happened to me?"

She had no problem remembering now what she had been discussing with her father, but how had she been stabbed?

The person in the doorway stepped into the light of the room.

"Faramir!"

"Hello Lirah. Although we aren't' meeting under the most ideal circumstances, it is good to see you again," he laughed.

"How have you been?"

"Well, I've just been married."

"Oh, really? That's splendid!"

"Yes, we're very happy. I'd ask you how you're doing, but your grimace every time you move kind of gives it away."

"Yes, well, sometimes I'm almost human in my anger, and I let it control me. It must be because I am half."

"It was a very serious wound. You almost died."

"Oh, that would've made things easier for him. Who did it to me?"

"Don't say that, he must love you, you are his daughter after all," admonished Faramir, with a disapproving tone.

"Oh, you don't actually believe that do you? You know what he did. No one does that if they love their child. Now tell me, who did this to me?"

"The elf, Legolas."

"I should have guessed. That damn monkey of his is always somewhere nearby him. An elf following a human around? It's disgraceful!"

"Watch what you say!" growled Faramir lowly.

"Why?" asked Lirah in a nonchalant tone.

"First of all the _queen_ is an elf and second Legolas is the king's best friend and favored one." His tone was warning, and his voice a whisper.

"I don't care, I'll say whatever I want; no one can hear me."

"That's what you think, there's always someone listening."

Lirah tried to move, and the pain in her side made her take a sharp breath, which Faramir heard.

"I'll go, you need to rest. Take care not to move too much or to quickly. That wound must heal; you don't want to reopen it. Try and go back to sleep now."

Lirah grudgingly agreed, and lied her head back down. She watched Faramir leave, and right as he was about to step out the door, called after him. "I'm sorry about Borimir."

He stopped. And without turning back around to face her, nodded. Then he continued out, and shut the door behind him.

The creaking of the wooden door opening woke Lirah from her sleep. Looking around she saw a tall, thin, blonde man approaching her bed. He stopped when he saw that she was awake. _The elf_!

"What is it you want?" she asked, trying to keep the anger from her voice.

"I came to see how you were doing. And to inquire as to if there was anything you required." His voice was, calm, steady. It reminded Lirah of music. "The king has commanded that you are to have everything that you ask."

"I want to see the queen." Lirah had always been straightforward. Her voice was just as steady as Legolas's, just higher.

"Except that."

"Why not?" she asked, her voice get lower.

"The king commanded that you will not see or speak to the queen, no matter what. Is there anything else?"

"Yes."

"Well what is it you require?"

"For you to get out."

Legolas's face had remained completely blank the whole time he was in the room. He raised an eyebrow now, and said "As you wish." Then he turned and left.

"Monkey." Lirah said, once he had gone.

A week later, Lirah was able to get out of her bed. The pain was still pretty much horrendous, but she had a high tolerance for pain, and ignored it.

There was a knock at the door.

"Come in," she called. She was sitting at the desk reading a book.

"Lirah, it's me, Faramir. I've brought Eowyn, like you asked."

Lirah turned around quickly. Pain shot through her side. "Sorry!" she gasped. "I keep forgetting to be careful."

She got up slowly, and still holding her side, turned around to face the couple.

A beautiful young blonde woman stood next to Faramir. "Hello," breathed Lirah softly.

"Good morning," returned Eowyn.

"I'm so glad to finally meet you. Faramir has told me of how wonderful you are. I'm glad for his happiness. You sounded so wonderful; I should like us to be friends."

Eowyn smiled. "I should like that also. Faramir has told me…well, everything. I admire your strength."

"Yes well, I wish I didn't need it."

Eowyn was about to say something comforting, when a little boy ran by the doorway. He was laughing.

"Was that…?" Lirah asked.

"Yes," responded both Faramir and his wife, simultaneously.

The laughing had stopped, and the running was replaced by a quick walk.

A little face appeared in the doorway.

"Tristo, you shouldn't be in here!" scolded Eowyn, as Faramir attempted to shoo the little boy out.

But, the little boy's eyes had found Lirah's face.

"Who are you?" he asked, curiously.

"My name is Lirah. Who are you?" she asked, although she already knew.

"I'm Tristo. I'm a big boy. You look like Mama."

"Yes, she does look like your mama, doesn't she? They have the same kind of ears," said Faramir.

Tristo's brow furrowed, as he concentrated on Lirah's face. "No. Her face looks like Mama's too."

"That's funny, Tristo," Lirah said, she saw the warning on Faramir's face.

"Mama sometimes says the name Lirah in her sleep."

"Well, isn't that funny. Tristo, Lirah needs her sleep. You must be careful and keep from coming in here so that Lirah will not wake up." Faramir's stern voice did not scare the child though.

"Why?"

"Because she is sick, child," answered Eowyn. Lirah could tell from the tender expression with which she looked at Tristo, Eowyn wanted a child.

"Are you _very_ sick?" asked the boy.

"No, not very," laughed Lirah (although it made her side hurt all the more to laugh). "I will be better soon."

"Okay." Tristo seemed to lose interest then, and skipped out the door.

"You really should be in bed though," said Eowyn.

"I'm going crazy lying in that bed, and sitting in this room. I need to get out of here."

Faramir's expression hardened. "Eowyn is right, you should be asleep. You won't get better if you don't rest, and then it'll be longer before you'll be able to get out of here."

"Fine!" Lirah sighed, and she slowly made her way to the bed. Eowyn and Faramir said goodbye, promising to return the next day.

Staring up at the ceiling, Lirah whispered "I've got to get out of here."

She got up, slowly, remembering to be careful. It wasn't hard, the pain in her side was still horrendous. She walked to the table where the hooded cloak she had originally been wearing had been placed, folded.

She tied the garment's strings about her neck and pulled the hood over her face.

The idiots hadn't locked the door. Well, they obviously didn't want her to stay.

She stuck her head out the door and peered down the hallway. No one.

"Hello?" called Arwen. The hooded person stopped. They must have known who she was, because whoever the person was bowed. They then continued on their way.

"Pardon me, but may I inquire as to who you are?"

"Forgive me, Queen, but my name is not fit for these great halls. I am not permitted to speak it."

Very unusual, thought Arwen. "Madam," she called out once more. "I am intrigued by your appearance and your refusal to make yourself known. Tell me who you are. Or at least let me see your face."

Lirah knew that ignoring a direct command from the queen of Gondor would be foolish. She also knew that her mother would not likely recognize her face.

"As you wish, my lady."

She pulled off her hood.

Arwen's eyes grew wide in surprise. "Why you look incredibly familiar. You look almost like…well you rather look like me." The queen walked forward to look at Lirah's face more closely.

And suddenly her face turned ashen.

"Where did you get that?" she whispered.

Lirah knew she had seen her necklace. It was made of ruby and mithril, and was given to her at birth by her mother.

"I've always had it. Ever since I was a child."

Arwen did not understand though, she was in shock at seeing the necklace.

"Lirah! Lirah!" a voice cried out.

The two women turned to see Tristo running towards them.

"Lirah," he said. "Shouldn't you be in bed? I thought you were sick?"

"Yes, Tristo, I should. I miss my home though, and I was just going to leave."

"Oh but you mustn't leave. Faramir and Eowyn were going to bring you a kitten. They told me it is a surprise. You mustn't leave, you're nice and you look like Mama."

Arwen's face had, if anything turned whiter. She opened her mouth and stood there for a moment. Then she screamed.

Tristo, confused, started to cry and ran away.

"You're alive! How is it that you lived? Aragorn said you had died, you were born weak." Her voice came out barely audible. There were tears streaming down her cheeks.

"I…I was raised by some dwarves who found me on a mountainside. They kept me for ten years, and told me how they'd seen a man leave me there, to die, when I was three days old, calling me Lirah. They said I'd had this necklace on me, and elven garments. After ten years they turned me over to some wood elves and I lived with them for awhile."

"But he said…"

"I don't know. I must go though, I was instructed not to speak to you. Legolas said I wasn't allowed to and…"

"No you weren't allowed to," said Legolas, knocking Lirah to the ground. "My lady, are you alright, I heard your scream, and I came running. What did this woman do to you? She was under orders from the king that she was not allowed to see or speak to you."

"What have you done? Get out! Do you know who this is? Look at the state of her! Get out and get me Faramir. Why wouldn't he tell me she was alive? Unless it was him that left her there to die!!! Get out and speak of this to no one, especially the king!!! And get me Faramir now! GO!"

Legolas, for the first time since Lirah had seen him, looked surprised. He turned and ran.

Arwen knelt down next to her daughter, sobbing.

"What did he do to you? Are you hurt?"

"I'm alright, mother. I fell on my arm oddly though. It pains me. At least the cut didn't reopen."

At that moment Faramir came in. He took in the whole scene with on glance. "Where shall I take her? I don't know what the king means to do with her. It seems that he does not wish for her to be around, and he may imprison her. She needs to be somewhere safe where she will have the conditions to heal her injuries, without further danger to be harmed."

"Take her to Rohan. Eomer will understand. I'll go with Tristo to visit her shortly."

Faramir picked up Lirah, and left. The queen, overcome, sank to the ground, and sobbed.


	2. Chapter 2

Faramir dug his heel into the horse's side. It threw up its head, whinnied, and took off at a great speed. He was holding onto the reigns, with Lirah sitting in front of him.

They rode on and on it seemed. He urged the horse to go faster as the countryside whipped past. Over the hills, and past the snow capped mountains they rode. She would be safe in Rohan. Eomer was an ally of the king's of course and would not lightly risk that alliance. But before he had left Arwen had written a letter explaining everything. Eomer would understand, and he would keep Lirah away from Aragorn.

Arwen had told Faramir as he was leaving that she did not know what the king of Gondor had in mind for his daughter, but just as a precaution she believed it would be better if they were in separate countries, so that there would be no more conflict.

And she did not want to lose her child ever again. She wrote to Eomer that she would much appreciate it if he ensured that Lirah stayed in Rohan.

Faramir thought of all this as he held Lirah upright on the horse. She had long since lost consciousness. Eomer would do as Arwen asked, of course, and keep it secret and from becoming known to Aragorn that Lirah had a home in the court in Edoras.

Eomer sat upon his thrown, the court of the golden hall merry and alive. A man came in and said "My king, Lord Faramir, Steward of Gondor is here. He requests a private audience with you."

"Show him to my rooms, I'll be there momentarily."

Eomer then made his excuses to the members of his court and left the hall.

When he reached his rooms, Eomer found his brother-in-law standing beside a chair. In the chair lay an unconscious woman.

"What is this?"

"The Queen of Gondor has requested that you keep her safe and keep her here."

"Who is she?"

"Her name is Lirah, she is…an elven princess, and under the protection of the queen." He handed Eomer a folded piece of paper. "It explains it all in there."

Faramir began to walk out the door.

"Where are you going? I do not know this woman, I do not know if I can keep her here. What is it that she needs protection from anyway? What has she done?"

Faramir stopped. "I must get back as soon as I can, else my presence may be missed. No one can know I was here, or who she is. Especially not Lord Aragorn. Keep it a secret that she is here, keep her here, and keep her safe. The queen's reasons are all explained in her letter. I must be off now."

"Faramir!" called Eomer.

He had already left.

The king of Rohan looked at the girl. She resembled Arwen. Beautiful in every aspect, she had the pure look of an elf down to both her pointed ears.

There was a table with some chairs in the room. Turning from the girl, he walked to the table and sat down, opening the letter.

As he began to read, his eyes widened. HE turned around and looked at the girl. "Left to die by your own father?" he whispered incredulously.

He would protect the girl as the queen asked, and keep her safely and secretly in his land.

Getting up, he tucked the letter in his breast. He picked up the girl off the chair and carried her out of the room.

One of his hands suddenly felt wet. Looking down he saw that the girl's side was red. "Blood!" he cried. Quickly he carried her down a hallway and into a vacant courtier room.

Lirah blinked a few times as she looked around. She was lying in a comfortable bed, in a room with wooden walls, with gold paint. The bedding was green, with a border of red and yellow.

She tried to sit up. A searing pain shot through her side.

"I can't believe I forgot about that!" she laughed grimly to herself. "I wonder where I am though."

She remembered speaking to her mother, and she remembered the elf knocking her over. And then Faramir came, and Arwen was saying something to him, and after that everything went black.

Someone knocked on the door.

Lirah looked down at herself to see if she was decently dressed. "Come in, please," she called after observing that she was.

It was a man she'd never seen before. He was fair, with green eyes, and a blonde moustache and goatee to match his long hair. He stood tall and proud, with the armor of a great warlord.

He bowed slightly. "I am King Eomer of Rohan."

"Then I am in…Edoras, your majesty?"

"Yes. I was asked to keep you here. Lord Faramir brought you. It was asked that your identity be kept a secret, so as not to alert the king of Gondor to your whereabouts."

"Oh, I understand. I do not think he would care that I am here though."

Eomer responded in his deep voice, "That may be so, but I will keep your identity quiet nonetheless."

"Do you happen to know how long it will be before the wound in my side heals?" she asked, as she had just moved a little and was hit immediately with pain. "I received the injury a week ago, and it should be healed a little by now."

"I'm afraid that it must have reopened when you journeyed here. We had to have a doctor see you right away, and he's bandaged it, but you will have to wait at least 3 weeks this time before going anywhere."

Lirah assumed that he meant she would be allowed to leave Rohan in three weeks, so she did not object. In truth Eomer meant that Lirah would have to stay in bed for three weeks, until the doctor was sure that she was fully healed.

"Is there anything else you need? You will have a maid to attend on you while you are recovering. And if you wish it I shall visit you as often as I can so that you may have company. Clothes will be provided for you, as you did not come with any of your own. Is there anything else that you wish?"

Lirah looked up at the tall, broad shouldered man. "No, king. There is nothing else I need. You have been most kind." And then, in a much softer voice, she whispered, "Thank you."

Eomer nodded his head, and turning, walked out the door.

Later that day, an older woman came to wait on Lirah. She brought with her food, and bolts of material. Lirah would have the new dresses made for her when she was well enough to get out of bed. The food sent was roast chicken, a hunk of white bread, cheese, and ale. Lirah would have preferred water over ale, but she did not complain.

Her room even had a window, right next to her bed. It looked out at the open plains surrounding Edoras, and the mountains beyond those.

She felt different Rohan than she had in Gondor. She liked the feeling of the place better.

Gondor's palace and city of stone, Minas Tirith, had been built into the stone of the mountain and possessed the beauty, pride, and power of men. Many people believed it to be magnificent.

It was incredibly beautiful, Lirah could not lie and say that it wasn't. Yet, Gondor lacked the warmth of Rohan. Its stone walls could not match the simple beauty of the wooden hall of Eomer.

Lirah looked out the window, staring out over the plains, and to the ice capped mountains.

Eomer was distracted through out the rest of the day. His thoughts kept wandering back to the woman lying in bed, her face steady and controlled, even though he knew it must have been agony every time she moved. His thoughts went to the letter from Arwen hidden beneath his breast plate.

Some one laughed loudly. The king snapped back to attention. The members of his court were dancing. He smiled at the women who he knew purposely danced in front of his throne. He ordered a mug of ale be brought to him.

As he sipped it, his mind slipped back to the girl.

He would think of a story, and a name for her; that she might join the members of his court and the truth of who she was would not get back to Aragorn.

He was greatly risking the bond that had existed between Rohan and Gondor for half a millennia by hiding the man's daughter. But he could not refuse her refuge. Not when he knew she deserved it. Plus, he didn't think he'd mind having her there, she seemed polite and intelligent, and she certainly was beautiful.

Lirah's maid was helping her to sit up slowly, so that she might eat her supper. She really had no appetite, but the woman said she must eat anyway. The meal was cold ham, beef stew, some bread, and ale. She would have to remind the woman to ask for water from then on.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. The maid opened it.

King Eomer was standing in the doorway. Lirah noticed that he was so tall his hair brushed the top of the doorway.

"I was wondering if I might take my meal with you. I have little humor for the company of my court, and wanted a quiet supper."

"Of course, my lord."

The maid helped her out of bed, for she refused to have supper with the king while laying down. Once she was out of bed, Eomer held out his elbow and allowing her to lean on him for support, led her to the table.

A second meal had been brought for him. The maid had vanished, and it was just the two of them.

"So how do you find everything?" he asked, in his deep voice.

"Everything is wonderful. You have gone to too much trouble I fear. When I was in Gondor, it was nothing like this."

"I would imagine so," he responded. "Do not misunderstand me, Minas Tirith is both grand and beautiful, but it has a certain…"

"…coldness to it?" Lirah finished for him.

Eomer's eyes widened in surprise. "Exactly!"

"Yes, my Lord. I felt the difference almost immediately. Even from confinement of this room I could tell that Edoras has a certain warmth and simple beauty that Minas Tirith will never have."

"You see well, Lirah."

They were silent for a while as they ate. Eomer was strong and silent, and Lirah could feel how powerful and willful he must have been. But with all that, she could also feel warmth, and tenderness in his person.

"My lord," she said, breaking the silence. "Is it hard being king?"

He looked up in amused surprise. Lirah felt her cheeks take on a little bit of color "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be so prying with my question."

"No, it's quite alright. I don't mind at all. And to answer you, yes it is. Perhaps it's because I was not raised to be king. I was raised as a warrior, not a king. I never expected to sit upon the thrown. It is…a great responsibility. You can feel the pressure to ensure the well being of your people. Not that I didn't feel it before, but now it's different. I have no choice in the matter now. I chose to ride around and defend my people, but now the responsibility of making decisions that could influence every person under my rule, down to the last baby, is pushing down on me.

"I will gladly be king though, if I may help and protect the people."

"I suppose if being king were an easy job, anyone could do it," replied Lirah.

After that they were silent again for the rest of supper.

Once they had finished eating, Eomer stood. He then took Lirah's hand, thanked her for her company and left.

The maid was back within five seconds.

She assisted Lirah back to her bed, but not before helping her change. The old woman put a white night gown on her charge, figuring she was up anyway and the dress she had been wearing for a few days could do with a wash.

Then Lirah got back into bed, and slept.

From then on, Eomer had dinner with her every evening. Occasionally he would take his breakfast with her also. She was not always awake though, so most of the time he didn't.

Rumors began to circulate throughout the court that the king was courting someone, although no one knew who.

When they ate supper, they sometimes spoke, and sometimes sat and ate in silence. Occasionally they joked, and laughed, but it was a rare thing. Each thought the other must have been incredibly bored with their company, but both appreciated that there was not always a demand to be sociable.

Plus, neither of them discussed anything personal. Lirah knew that Eomer knew her story, and Eomer knew that Lirah knew he knew. And the knowing of who knew who knew went on forever. Yet, they spoke of none of it, as though none of it had ever happened. And yet, it was not dull small talk either.

After a week, Lirah could slowly get out of bed, without her maid's assistance. She could change her dress also. She had not had her own dresses made yet, as she was still too tired to stand while they measured her, and pieced the dresses together. She wore borrowed dresses, and they fit all right.

The gossip of the court also became definite after that first week. The king had not eaten supper with the rest of the court that whole week. The rumors were that he was having his dinners privately with a woman. She had to be one of the courtiers, but no one could figure out which one. He never showed any special interest in any of the women.

After the second week, Lirah was able to get out of bed, and have her dresses fitted and sewn. She also dined three out of four of the nights that week in the King's private rooms, rather than her own room.

One day, she walked into the king's privy chamber, and he actually felt his breath catch.

She was wearing a new dress. It was blood red, with gold trim, and it flowed and moved gracefully as she walked. Her chestnut hair was plaited with matching gold, and piled on top of her head.

She bowed her head and murmured, "My Lord Eomer."

He put his hand across his waist and bowed his torso. "Princess, please sit and make yourself comfortable."

"I do believe you've never called me princess before."

"Oh, does it make you uncomfortable? I rather think of you as a princess, since you are one by blood. Besides that, you carry yourself as a princess."

"I don't mind, my lord. You may call me what ever you wish."

Lirah looked at the meal set out for them.

"Water!"

"Yes, I'm sorry you haven't received any with your meals up until now. I was not informed that you wished it, and you never said anything to me."

"Oh! I did not mean to be a trouble, King Eomer. I mentioned it to my maid a few times, but I think she forgot. Thank you for providing it for me."

Eomer smiled. "She mentioned it to me today, so I had them send us water along with the ale. It was no trouble. It is our wish that you are comfortable here."

"I do love it here. It is warm and welcoming. I have not even left the hall yet. I should like to ride out once I have recovered. The view from my window is teasing. Rohan seems such a beautiful country, and I want to see every inch of it."

The king felt happiness when he saw in her eyes the same love for his country that he felt for it. It was as though she understood him, with out either of them having to explain themselves to each other.

"I shall be sad to leave this place."

Eomer, who had just taken a bite of cheese, felt his whole body tense and his head snap up. "Leave?" he asked cautiously.

Lirah immediately noticed his reaction. "Well…yes. I cannot stay here forever. I have business to attend to. I was planning on leaving as soon as I had completely healed." Her voice had become just as cautious as his, her face unsure.

Eomer stared at her in disbelief. He set down the hunk of bread that he had been holding, and took up his mug of ale; taking a long swig from it. He looked over her face, taking in her hesitant expression.

"No."

"I beg your pardon?"

"No, you're not leaving."

Lirah's face changed. As had Eomer's. They were both set, determined, stubborn.

"Why not?"

"You are not leaving. Your mother requested that I keep you safe, and that I make sure you stay here. You're not leaving."

"I don't care what my mother requested. I am not a child. Of course I appreciate all that you've done for me while I've been ill, but I am sorry, I _will_ leave Rohan. I have my own business to attend to."

Suddenly, Lirah stood up. She winced, the pain in her side not completely gone. "If you'll excuse me, your majesty."

Eomer jumped up, pushing his chair back so quickly that it flew a couple feet.

"Don't think you're going anywhere. You are residing in the land under my rule, and you shall not leave unless I give you permission." His voice was low, almost threatening. He had leaned forward and put his hands on the table.

Lirah slowly raised her chin in the air before saying, "I have my life to live, king, and I cannot stay here. There's nothing you can do to stop me leaving."

Eomer's face darkened. He stood straight, and shoved the wooden table aside so that it fell to the ground and the food crashed and splattered all over the floor. He stepped forward and stood so that he was up against Lirah, his face only an inch or two from hers. When she tried to back away, he took her arms in his hands, and held her steady.

"What do you have to go back to? Your father tried to bring about your death twice already, and both times he's been nearly successful. Your mother didn't even know you were alive, and now that she does she doesn't come to see you even though you had a potentially mortal wound. No one loves you, you have no one who cares for you or misses you and wants you back. If you leave, where would you go? Who would take you in? You're alone in this world, with nothing and no one."

Eomer kept his grip on Lirah. Looking at her face, he saw that the defiant look was rather frozen on it.

She inhaled sharply. Tears began silently streaming down her cheeks.

For a moment the two of them stood there like that, Eomer, with his intimidating face staring down at Lirah; whose own face was looking towards his chest, but she was not really seeing anything.

And then Lirah's eyes snapped back into focus. She looked up at Eomer oddly. Then she pulled herself from his grip, backed up, turned around, and walked out the door.

Eomer shook his head, and retired to his own bed chamber, to keep himself from going after her.


	3. Chapter 3

The next night Eomer had dinner with the rest of the court. He did not think Lirah would want to see him for at least a day after the words spoken between them. He pushed her from his mind, and flirted with every young woman in his court.

In turn, Lirah waited anxiously all day for supper. She told herself not to think about it, not to hope that he would call for her as he did every night. Yet, she still hoped that he would come, or have the maid bring her to his rooms.

He didn't come though. "He must still be angry about last night. Or maybe he has just lost interest in my company."

Lirah looked out the window. She looked past the plains, and to the mountains. What was past them?

Nothing. Like Eomer said, she had no one and no where to go to, she belonged nowhere.

Her life had never been good, but it had gotten close, and then shattered.

Over the past two weeks, she had felt as though perhaps her life might get better. She had felt as though finally someone understood her. She thought he had felt the same way as her. Apparently not though.

These thoughts only intensified when the next night, Eomer again did not have his meal with Lirah, but with the court. He sent no messages or commands either.

Lirah had nothing to do then. On the third morning, she did not expect Eomer to come that night, or even allow herself to hope.

She spent the day composing a song on the bitterness of death, loneliness, loss, and being unwanted.

She sang the song out the window. She sang other songs too, all day long. But when it came time for supper, and she knew Eomer was not coming, she opened the window and let the song in her heart be carried with the wind.

Looking down, she saw that a few people, mostly children, had gathered and were looking for the source of the singing.

"Lady, what is it that you sing of?"

Lirah finished her song before turning around to face her maid.

"I sang of loneliness, abandonment, and loss."

"It did sound sad, milady. Why is it that you feel such things?" Her maid's face showed nothing but concern.

Lirah answered slowly, "I am alone in this world. I have no one who cares for me, and I belong nowhere."

"But milady, are you not an elf?"

Lirah was confused. She nodded.

"Well then, if I may be so bold to say, do you not belong with your people? Will you take the ship from the Grey Haven, across the sea?"

Thoughts raced through her mind. Why had she not gone before then?

She had been trying to understand why her father had done what he had done, and when she understood she had set out for revenge. It had only taken her so long because of _him_, and the time they had spent together. She would have stayed in Middle Earth, and married him; giving up her immortality.

But that didn't matter anymore. It was over.

Someone had loved her once. Eomer was wrong in that sense. She had loved him back with all of her heart.

But Boromir was dead two years.

Maybe though, if a man had loved her once, she could find love again. Eomer was right, no one out there cared for her and she belonged nowhere. But she knew now that no one cared for her or loved her in Rohan either. She wasn't even a human, and she probably didn't really belong there.

She would go to the Grey Haven, and take the ship to Valinor. Even if she did not find love, she would be with her people. She would find a place where she belonged. Otherwise she would sit in her room and stare out at the snow covered mountains for all eternity.

"Perhaps," she said carefully. "I'll think about it."

After eating her supper, alone, she lied in bed and thought about how she would escape.

Eomer sat on his thrown. It was the third night in a row that he had not taken supper with Lirah. After not sending for her the first night, he feared she would be insulted and would not wish to see him the next night. The same for that night.

So, he ate with the rest of the court, and he put up with the twittering of those idiotic girls who tried to make pointless small talk, or flirt with him. He felt repulsed by them, and had to force laughter and keep the fake smile on his face all night.

All the while he was thinking of Lirah.

She would be sitting in her room, having supper alone for the third night in a row.

He had been rude not to send any word as to why he had not taken his meals with her. Perhaps she was angry with him. He would not want to further upset her.

He would call upon him after supper was over.

Looking up he suddenly realized that the members of the court had gone. He had been so wrapped up in his thoughts that he had not noticed everyone leaving.

He stood up and left the hall. Walking quickly he headed for his rooms.

Once he had arrived, he changed into less formal clothing.

There was a knock at the door. Opening it, he saw that it was Lirah's maid.

"Send for the elvish princess, tell her I wish her company this evening."

The maid nodded and turned. Eomer closed the door behind her. He then sat down on a chair, and picked up a book and began to read.

He read for five minutes, and then looked to the door. No one had come yet. "Odd," he thought. He shrugged his shoulders and continued reading.

Ten minutes after that, he looked up again. Still, no one came. Frowning, he stood up and walked to the door. Throwing it open he called out for a servant.

He sent the servant to find Lirah's maid.

She was back within a minute.

"It has been fifteen minutes since I sent you to get her, why is the lady not here yet?" he asked, aggravated.

The maid stared down at her feet, shuffling them. "Sir…the thing is…we can't find her."

"What!"

Eomer stood paralyzed with shock for a moment. Then he took off out the door and down the hall.

When he arrived at Lirah's room, he threw open the door.

No one was there. She had left.

He knew, because there was a bit of rope tied to the bed, which went out the window. She must have climbed out through the window.

Eomer's eyes were wide, his lips pursed.

"Aaarrgh!"

Footsteps could immediately be heard coming towards the room.

A servant came running. The man was about to bow, but Eomer stopped him.

"Do not bother with that now. Have fifteen or twenty of my best soldiers armed and ready to ride within the half hour! And when I say fifteen or twenty I mean twenty!"

He then took off himself, leaving the baffled man to follow his orders.

When he reached his bed chamber he opened the closet.

He took out his armor and put it on piece by piece. Every additional piece of armor made his already sturdy frame even more imposing.

Lastly he put on his helmet. It was not the helmet that he might have used, had he chosen to take Theoden's when he died. Instead, he kept his original helmet. It had a horse's head over his face, with the long blonde mane erupting from the top. Putting it on, he felt stronger, and less vulnerable.

The twenty men sat on their horses, and at their king's command took off. He had told them that they were to scour the land with him, in search of an escaped prisoner. He told them she was elven, and they had to find her.

They rode over every hill and looked behind every bush as they rode past. After three hours, someone spotted a lone figure a top a hill.

"To the hill! Create a perimeter around the person when we get there! On! On! Faster!" cried Eomer.

The thundering of the horses' hooves echoed across the plain. The person on the hill, upon hearing the horses took off at a run.

They caught up quickly; whoever it was could hardly run. They were clutching their side.

Lirah felt like fainting, she was running so hard. Her side was throbbing.

And then, just like that, she was surrounded.

Twenty spears pointed at her head.

A horse rode up in front of her, between the spears. The rider spoke in a deep voice. "You are a runaway prisoner. What gave you the idea that you could disobey the king?"

Lirah didn't answer.

"Speak quickly."

She dropped to her knees, unable to think from the pain in her side.

Looking up, Lirah whispered so that only he could hear her, "Have mercy on me, please. My life has been a living hell, take pity and let me go."

He slid down off his horse, and glared down at her. "I would cut off your head, elf, if it stood but a little higher from the ground." His men moved their spears in closer.

"Do you not understand?" Lirah cried. "You were right; no one cares for me any longer. A man loved me once, but he died two years ago. I have no real family, and no home left, now that the elves are all leaving. There is no one out there who loves me, but maybe I can find someone if I go to Valinor. Even if I do not, at least I shall then have a home with my own people. I do not belong here, it's not as though anyone here cares for me, and I am an elf not a human, and would never be a true person of the land of Mark.

"Just let me go! I beg you to let me go and take the ship to the undying lands, and you can be rid of my presence and we'll all be happy. Give me the chance to find someone who will love me. Please!"

Eomer's expression changed, it was something Lirah could not identify. "You do belong here," he said, taking his helmet off. "You have the love of Rohan's own king."

The men instantly withdrew their spears. Their tight circle around Lirah disintegrated, as they rode their horses away from the king and his elven princess.

She tried to stand, but only managed to get one leg up before almost falling over.

Eomer had caught her, and he lifted her up and set her on his horse gently. Putting his helmet back on, he climbed up behind her. He rode the horse to a spot under a nearby tree, and stopped.

"I swear if you've reopened that wound _again_ I might strangle you."

Lirah laughed weakly. "I don't think it's reopened, but it does pain me a little."

"Do you understand now why I don't want you to leave?"

"Yes, I wanted to leave even more badly than before because I thought you were indifferent towards me. Being wrong isn't always terrible."

"No, it is not. I am sorry that the man you loved died two years ago, I did not mean to bring back painful memories."

"It's okay, I understand. I will always have a place in my heart for him, but I think I was finally able to move on a few months ago. I was not surprised when he died though, I always thought Boromir was too keen to take risks in battles, and fight when there was no reason to. But he was a warrior, and I have accepted it, and moved on."

Eomer's eyes widened. "Faramir's older brother?"

"Yes. He was slaughtered by orcs."

"I wonder why Faramir didn't tell me that when he brought you here."

"If I were him I wouldn't have thought it relevant to the situation."

"Yes, you're probably right. Still, I wish I would have known before this. Let's go back to Edoras now though."

"Allright. Am I still your prisoner?"

"No, I want you to be my queen instead."

Lirah could think of nothing to say, she was so shocked. Eomer filled in the silence by kissing her.


	4. Chapter 4

Eomer rode the horse into the stables. Jumping down, he took the reigns in his hands. Lirah looked down at him from where she was sitting and smiled.

"How soon?"

"As soon as you want it to be. I'm not exactly ecstatic when proposed with the idea of a long engagement, but we can take as much time as you need."

"Well, I don't want to wait, but at the same time let's not rush it either. I think a month would be sufficient time to plan and hopefully my mother will wish to come and that will provide enough time for her to make up the necessary excuses for herself, Tristo, Eowyn, and Faramir to come."

Eomer held out his hand, which Lirah took. Helping her down he asked "So you don't want your father there?"

"No. Not that he'd want to come, but I'd prefer if he didn't even know about it. It would just make it easier for everyone else to come I think."

Eomer nodded. Then he put his arms around Lirah's waist and pulled her close to him. Their faces were an inch apart. "You…" he began, giving her a peck on the lips. "…are the most incredible…"he gave her another kiss. "…the most beautiful…"and again, kissed her. "…and the most intelligent woman I've ever known." He pulled her up against him and kissed her, the heat in his loins traveling through his body.

"I love you."

"On October the sixteenth all citizens are invited to attend the royal wedding of our King, Lord Eomer to his elven princess. All members of the royal court must respond within this week as to whether or not they will be attending the ceremony and feast," announced the royal herald.

The gossip in the city was deafening.

"…an elf?"

"…didn't even know he was looking…"

"…I hear she's pregnant…"

"…must have enchanted him with her evil magic…"

The women of the court were the worst, and seeing as they had only a month to turn the king's attention to themselves, lowered their necklines a good two inches and threw themselves at him every chance they got.

No had seen the mystery woman. The only change in the king was that he seemed less introverted and was smiling a great deal more. His fiancé's name was not revealed though, and he had not allowed the public or even the court a glimpse of her.

All the while, Lirah sat in her room, planning the wedding. She decided on the decorations, the location, and was determining the guest list.

The seating arrangement was complicated. She had no idea of where to put people, never having actually met the majority of them.

The only thing that mattered was that her mother would sit next to her, on her left.

Someone knocked at the door.

"Who is it?"

"Me."

"Come in," called Lirah. She was sitting at her desk, writing a letter.

Eomer opened the door and stepped inside. Closing it behind him he asked, "Is it finished?"

She folded the letter and sealed it. Handing it to him, she nodded.

"Good. My most trusted servant will bring it to him, and he'll give it to your mother."

He leaned down and kissed Lirah's forehead. "The tailor will be here in half of an hour to fit you for your wedding dress."

Her eyes lit up. "I'm so excited. I wish the wedding was tomorrow. I don't want to wait another two weeks…"she whispered, her hands moving down his chest.

Eomer took her hands, stopping their progress to his belt. "No…we must wait. I want our wedding to be pure, and I want you to have something perfect." His face was perfectly controlled, and his voice steady, when in reality he wanted to throw her on the bed and make violent love to her.

"Go then, or I'll stop listening to you and just do what I want," Lirah sighed, and slapped his arm playfully.

Eomer laughed and kissed her, and then walked out the door.

The young man stared at the serious face of the king. "Do not let anyone else get a hold of this letter. Do you understand? It's for Faramir's hands only!"

The boy bowed and put the letter in his breast. Eomer slapped the horse's rear and both steed and messenger were gone instantly in a flurry of hooves.

There was a knock at the door of Faramir's study. He got up from his desk and opened it.

A young boy of about sixteen stood before him, panting.

"Come in boy! Where have you come from and what business requires such exertion?" exclaimed the steward.

"Lord Faramir?"

"Yes?"

The boy stepped inside, and closed the door behind him. He looked up and whispered "What I carry comes from the King of Rohan, and I was instructed to deliver to you only. If there is to be any sort of answer you will find me at room fourteen at the Squatting Dwarf Inn."

And suddenly the door banged shut and the boy was gone.

"Odd."

Faramir sat down at his desk and opened the letter.

"_Dearest Faramir,_

_I am writing to you and ask you to convey this message to my mother. His lordship, King Eomer, and I would like to alert you to the fact that we are engaged to be married. The wedding will take place on October the sixteenth, and we would love for you and Eowyn to join us for the occasion. If it would be at all possible, I would like for my mother and brother to be there, but understand if they cannot attend. _

_Please pass on my apologies to my mother for the distress I caused, and thank her for sending me to Rohan. Eomer and I would also like to ask that you _not_ alert King Aragorn to the fact that I am alive, and especially that we are to marry. If the four of you are to come to our wedding we would appreciate it if you were to make some sort of false excuse as to why you traveled to Rohan._

_With much love,_

_Lirah_"

"They're out of their minds!" whispered Faramir. How could they risk the Gondor - Rohan alliance that had lasted for 500 years?

But then, he imagined the two of them together. He knew that if anyone needed some form of happiness it was Lirah. And Eomer was a good man; besides that, Lirah could make Eomer happy.

He tucked the letter in his breast, he would show the queen the next morning.

"Married?"

"Yes my lady. They are to be married and wish for you and Tristo to attend the ceremony."

Arwen sat down. "I've spent no time with my own daughter, and now she's to be married?"

Faramir looked down. He knew the queen would be happy for her child. She had not done a terrible job at concealing her disgust for her husband either. She sat with him, and spoke civilly with him. She was not warm or intimate though.

And yet, Faramir knew that one day she would forgive him. She loved him.

"Do you think they're happy? Do you think Lirah's happy?"

Faramir took a deep breath. "I don't doubt it. Eomer is a good man and neither of them are the type to jump into marriage unless they were absolutely sure about what they were doing."

Arwen smiled. "Then I shall make my excuses to my husband and we shall go to Rohan on October 10. Tell your wife, I am sure she will be pleased to hear of her brother's happiness."

"Yes madam."

Lirah looked into the mirror. The silver dress flowed like water. It was sleeveless, and the waist was a thin circlet of gold on her hips, which would be matched by the one she would wear on her head. It was simple, and was made in the elven style rather than that of Rohan.

Eomer had just gotten the reports on the status of all wedding preparations. The servants had been working on the decorations for days, and cooking for a week.

Lirah's dress was ready, and he had been fitted for his new clothes. Queen Arwen was minutes away, along with her son and Eomer's sister and her husband.

A servant walked up to him and bowing, said "My lord, the queen and prince of Gondor, along with the steward and stewardess, have arrived. Their belongings have already been brought to their rooms, and they await an audience with you."

Eomer nodded. The servant led him to the room where his guests were waiting.

"Eomer!" cried his sister, running forward and embracing him. "I can't believe it! It was such a surprise, and she's such an amazing girl."

Eomer nodded, and smiled. Faramir nodded. "I must agree, when I brought that girl here I had no idea you two would have feelings for one another," he said laughing.

The king felt something hit his leg. Looking down, he saw Tristo with his arms wrapped around it. "Uncle Eomer! I wana ride you horsey with you, and then can we go see Lirah? Is she better yet? 'Cause she was real sick before."

Eomer laughed, and patting the little boy on the head responded "Of course we can ride my horse, this afternoon if you wish. Your sister is feeling much better now, and you may see her after your mother."

"My sister?"

Eomer looked to Arwen. "We hadn't quite told him that part yet," she whispered.

"I'm sorry, I had no idea."

Arwen called out the door for Tristo's nurse. She took him, and the adults were left alone.

Arwen looked at Eomer and smiled, "Don't worry, he was going to find out soon enough. I think once you're married it will be safe to tell Aragorn. If Lirah permits me."

When she spoke her daughter's name, the queen's eyes filled with tears. "Can I…?"

Eomer bowed "Please!"

He called for Lirah's maid.

"Take her ladyship, Queen Arwen, to Princess Lirah's room."

The old woman bowed and led Arwen out the door and down the hall.

There was a knock at the door.

Lirah called "Eomer, how am I supposed to make sure everything is ready for the wedding if you keep coming in and distracting me?" She began to laugh.

Getting up, Lirah walked to the door and threw it open.

Her mother stood there.

"Oh!"

Within seconds the two women were holding eachother, sobbing.

"Do you love him?"

"So much that it hurts me sometimes."

Arwen looked into her daughter's eyes and knew she spoke the truth.

"Then I'm glad you're getting married. I want you to be happy."

And then it was the rehearsal.

The night before the wedding there was great excitement throughout the city. The wedding would take place the next day in the Golden Hall, and then the King would make his wife Queen of Rohan. After that there would be a great feast for the court and guests of the couple inside the Hall. Out in the streets there would be free food and games so that all the people could celebrate the great day.

That night though, at the rehearsal, the court would finally see the princess and learn who she was.

The king was distracted all afternoon, his mind on the next day, and did not notice the anxious court.

And then it was six o'clock. The horns blew, and Eomer stood up and walked over to his throne and sat erect.

Everyone was silent.

"Presenting, Princess Lirah of Rivendell, betrothed to King Eomer!"

The doors opened, and the Golden Hall was bathed in the orange light of the setting sun.

A tall, slender, beauty glided in. She was clothed in red and gold silks, and had long chestnut tresses. She resembled the Queen Arwen of Gondor in physical appearance and mannerisms.

This was made all the more obvious by the fact that Arwen herself followed the young maiden into the hall.

Even the women who had been jealous only minutes before they had seen Lirah were stunned into silence and awed by her beauty and grace. No one spoke.

Lirah made her way to the King's throne. She bent low before him. "My lord," she whispered.

He took her hand and she stood up. Turning her to face his court he cried out "This is the woman I have chosen for my wife and to be your queen. What say you?"

A cheer immediately erupted from the nobles.

"I think they love you almost as much as I," whispered Eomer.


	5. Chapter 5

He stiffened as she sat down next to him. Her soft breasts and plump lips were almost whispering to him. Looking down at his plate he could not believe he still had to get through dinner and dancing before he could have his wife to himself.

Reading his thoughts she reached under the table and put her hand on his thigh teasingly. Then she moved it at his stifled groan with a giggle and grabbed his hand. Squeezing it, she said "Don't worry husband, only a few hours more."

"A few hours more and I will have died my teasing wife."

They had their ale and ate their dinners. The dancing and the celebrations were lovely and gay, and all the courtiers were in high spirits. The people were greatly pleased with the marriage of their king. After the war had ended the people simply wanted to return to peace and hopefully their nation would prosper. The marriage of the king gave them the promise of steady rule and hopefully an heir would appear soon from the union.

The streets were filled with dancing and singing. As the night wore on lights appeared, as the villagers refused to let their party end.

Throughout it all, Lirah felt Eomer's gaze burning into her skin. She would chance a glance at him occasionally, but would immediately look away every time. His gaze made her shift in her seat; the heat she could see in his eyes made her nervous.

At one point, her mother, seeming to know her mind, put a hand on the small of her back and whispered in her ear "Do not fret about tonight child, he loves you. Both of you will will enjoy it more than you can imagine"

And then, as if on cue, Eomer stood.

"My lords and ladies of the court," he began, bowing. "The festivities have been marvelous, and on behalf of me and my queen I thank you all for coming. We shall now retire and I bid you all good evening."

He held out his hand to Lirah. She put her slender, trembling, hand into his rough yet steady one and stood up. The two bowed their heads to the court and then walked together out the door of the hall.

As they walked down the corridor together, Eomer could hear Lirah's sharp breathing. He felt her trembling body.

All her nerves did were make _him_ more aroused.

They walked into their shared chamber. Lirah went into the antechamber to get ready for their night together.

"Now what do I do?" Eomer muttered.

He tried lying down on the bed, but he was still in his armor so it was uncomfortable. But besides that, it was rather unromantic and presumptive.

So he tried standing, but simply looked awkward.

What was he to do? He had to make it perfect, he'd promised her that.

Lirah slowly opened the door a crack. Peering inside her new joint chamber she could see nothing. It was almost completely dark. There was a little light coming from the fire in the hearth but not much.

Warily, she stepped inside the room. Her silk nightgown made no noise as she crept silently towards the window. It clung to her body and showed every curve she had and every movement she made.

The silver moonbeams guided her way to the square window in the wall. Her silent footsteps led her to the hole in the wood. Looking out the silver light illuminated her face and reflected of her soft brown hair and creamy white neck.

Rough fingers were caressing her neck. She felt shivers shoot down her spine at his touch.

His fingers were replaced by his soft lips. The hot breath on the nape of her neck set her groin pulsing. Lirah's breath became short and ragged.

He wrapped his right arm around her waist and pulled up against her. She could feel his hardness against her back.

Running her hair through his hands, he gently moved it all to one shoulder, leaving her neck exposed. His lips returned to gently sucking on the white flesh of her throat.

She could not help but melt at his touch. The pulsing she felt between her legs would not let her do anything but give in to him.

He gave her one last kiss on her neck before spinning her around, almost roughly, to face him.

Her mouth melded with his, and this time it was she who pulled him closer. Grasping onto his hips she pulled him against her and they stood there for a brief moment, mouths connected and bodies wrapped about eachother.

He moved his kissing back down to her neck, as she ran her hands through his hair. His sucking lips continued their journey southward onto her milky white breast. The sleeves of her nightgown were pulled off and the front fell down, leaving her exposed and shining silver in the moonlight. His eyes took in the sight of her pointed nipples before he opened his mouth and began suckling on them.

Lirah gasped at the pleasurable sensation. Her neck collapsed and she threw her head back; a sign of her submission to his touch.

His arms wrapped tightly around her waist. Picking her up, Eomer pulled the nightgown completely from her body and left it in a crumpled pile on the floor.

With one arm cradled under her knees and the other supporting her back, he carried her to the bed. Gently he lied her down on the flowing silky red sheets.

Lying there with one knee up, and using her elbows to support herself she knew that he was completely in control.

He stepped back and admired her. The smooth contours of her body. The curving thighs and arching breasts with the hard pink nipples at their peaks. Her concaved stomach and curving hips. Her soft hair as it framed her face and fell over her collarbone, nearly covering her breasts.

He reached up to take off his breastplate.

"No!"

There had been silence for so long that both of them were surprised by her rasping voice.

Lirah sat up on her knees.

"Let me take it off," she whispered softly.

With gentle fingers she removed his breastplate, shoulder guards, and chain mail in slow succession. Then his girdle was removed, along with his brown tunic.

He shivered at her touch, as her delicate hands moved along his body removing him of his armor.

Without it, standing before her in naught but his breeches, he suddenly felt vulnerable.

She put her cold hand on his smooth chest. Starting at his pectoral muscles, she moved her hand down his chest slowly, letting her fingers run over his muscular stomach and then brush along the hardened penis.

Suddenly she grasped his hips and pulled them to her.

In an instant he was on top of her.

He grasped at her breasts and roughly needed at them with his large hands. Both of her legs were wrapped around his back, and moved his hands down her stomach and under her bottom. Sliding them along her bottom he moved his rough touch to her thighs.

Quivering, she could not take it any longer and opened her legs. He moved his right hand to her inner thigh, sliding it up higher and higher.

Suddenly two rough fingers were curled in her dark curling hairs. And then they moved up and in.

Her back arched as she writhed in both pain and pleasure. The heat that had started in between her legs seemed to travel as far as her feet. It intensified as he began to use his thumb externally, along with his pointer and index finger that had already entered her.

She tried to move away from his touch but he used his other arm to pin her down. His large fingers' movement in her was almost too much for her to bear. She struggled against his hold on her but he would not let go, nor would he cease his quickening movement of his fingers up and down.

The tension was building in her lower abdomen. Her entire body quivered as she let out quick gasps and stifled moans.

But Eomer would not stop. His fingers moved faster and faster as thought Lirah's cries and moaning were encouragement.

She grasped onto the wooden posts of the bed, pulling on them to try and get away from the foreign burning in her navel.

And suddenly with one muffled cry, the explosion came.

Her whole body convulsed as the tension was released. Eomer looked up at her and grinned. He put his chin on her stomach.

"Did you enjoy that wife?"

Lirah was too busy panting to give more than a feeble nod.

He stood up on his knees and slowly peeled off his breeches so that she could see every inch of him.

The quivering between her legs had returned as she longed for him to enter her.

Sensing her desire he clambered on top of her.

It slipped in easier than she had expected it to, not realizing that she was still wet from his use of fingers in her. His reason for that was to make their lovemaking more comfortable for her by making it less dry.

Still, he was large and she was a virgin. The stretching caused her to cry out in shock.

"I'm not hurting you am I?" he whispered worriedly in her ear.

"No!" she lied automatically; there was more pleasure then there was pain.

He kissed her gently and began rocking slowly.

She grasped onto his shoulders, her nails scratching his back.

"Harder! Faster!" she cried.

He began to pick up his speed and drove into her harder. He had to grasp onto her hips to keep her body steady.

His torso was erect in the air, as she lied on the bed with her back and neck arched. Primal moans of pleasure were escaping her lips.

Eomer threw his head back and drove into her harder.

He was feeling the tension building up, knowing he was nearing climax. The sweat clung to his forehead and hair was stuck to the back of his neck as he continued to drive himself into her tight folds.

And then it came. He did not release his grasp of her hips as his orgasm rocked her body even more violently then her own had.

Collapsing next to her he panted and gasped for breath. She closed her eyes and quietly breathed through her nose. Then she curled up closer to him, nestled under his arm.

"How much longer until we can do that again?"

"Give me about a half an hour love and then we'll go again." Eomer laughed at her eagerness.


	6. Chapter 6

Eomer raised up his head, and resting it on his elbow, observed the woman lying asleep next to him.

Her hair was tussled and some of it was matted down to her head. The pink flush in her cheeks still remained. Her pink lips were parted slightly, and he heard the steady whisper of her soft breathing.

Eomer raised his arm and slowly reached out for her. Gently, he traced one of his rough, calloused fingers along the outline of her soft pink lips. She did not move at his touch, soundly asleep. His eyes softened uncharacteristically when he saw that in her sleep she smiled.

In her sleep she was free from her past and released from the sorrow she forever bore.

Suddenly Eomer felt a warmth in his center, and an urge bubbled up from his stomach. Unable to surpress it any longer, he opened his mouth and led out a happy and loud laughter. He was so pleased with his good fortune in his happiness with his wife he could not help but laugh, for pure joy.

Lirah cracked an eye open.

"Why are you awake at this hour?"

Eomer smirked. Leaning forward he brushed his lips along her neck while breathing in her ear, "The question is, my darling wife, why are you asleep?"

Lirah opened both eyes widely at his words. A grin crept onto her face.

Eomer suddenly jumped as a cold hand slipped between his legs.

"Husband, you do wrong to tempt me. You have yet to learn of the passions that must now be released since you have unlocked my maidenhood."

She pushed herself up and looked into his eyes. There was a lock of hair in his face. Brushing it out of the way, she whispered, "I want you."

Eomer growled and threw the sheets off of them. Lirah giggled in anticipation and lied down on her back, pulling her husband up on top of her.

Lirah awoke the next morning alone in her expansive bed. Already she missed the large presence of her spouse. Rolling over to his side she smelled the sheets and pillows where he'd lain, drinking in the sharp scent of pipe smoke and leather. Looking around she saw her abandoned white nightgown in a crumpled heap on the floor.

"So much for my virginity," she laughed.

The court cheered when Eomer and Lirah emerged later that day for supper. They'd been absent for breakfast and lunch, confined happily in their rooms.

Arwen looked on at the glowing face of her daughter. She put her arm around her son and smiled as tears began to stream down her face.

"My queen! Are you alright?"

She turned around in shock. Faramir was standing to her left staring at her with concern. He held out his hand to her and asked "Is there anything wrong?"

Taking his hand she shook her head.

"It's time we left Faramir. Lirah is happy, and she must be left alone to build her own life and family. Tristo and I shall return to Gondor, and I advise you and your wife come with us."

Faramir nodded, with a half-smile on his face.

"But _why_ must you leave?"

Eomer let go of his wife's hand and stood up off his throne. "I too am confused. The wedding has just finished, the celebrations shall continue for at least a week more. Stay and make merry with us, I beg you."

Arwen shook her head. "No, we shall return to Gondor. Faramir and Eowyn have my leave to remain should they wish but Tristo and I shall leave. We must return to our own land and leave you to build your own lives here. Lirah, I shall not speak of any of this to your father."

Lirah's face suddenly became firm. "You may leave, for now I see your reasons. I thank you for being here and for bringing my brother. However I would prefer if you _did_ tell my father about Eomer's marriage. Do not mention my name though."

"What!!"

Lirah looked to her husband. "Don't look so shocked, I don't care anymore what he thinks. If he knows then he knows, I shall not forgive him but I have moved on. I have a more important reason for living then revenge now."

Eomer's face softened. "You don't cease to amaze me."

Arwen and Tristo returned to Gondor, and Faramir and Eowyn (at her insistence) stayed behind for the rest of the celebrations.

She dropped her cape to the floor as Tristo ran to his father. Aragorn picked him up and spun him around.

"I have missed you my son. How was your trip? Did uncle Eomer let you see the horses like you wanted?"

Tristo looked to his mother for permission to speak.

She cocked her head to the side and shook it ever so subtly.

"It was lots of funny father. I got to _sit_ on uncle Eomer's horsie and everybody was dancing." He looked to Arwen again questioningly. "Mama may I go to my room now and play with my toys?"

She nodded demurely and kissed him before he left.

Aragorn walked slowly up to his wife, removing his jacket. He took her by the waist. "I've missed you," he whispered into her neck. His hands began to move up along her body.

"Yes, it was a tiring trip," she muttered, pulling herself from his grasp.

Aragorn could not disguise the hurt he felt, and it showed in his face. Swallowing, he tried to ignore her coldness. "Did anything interesting happen?"

Arwen stopped moving and looked up at her husband oddly. "Yes, the king was married."

Aragorn's jaw dropped.

"WHY was I not informed of this?" he nigh-yelled.

"How should I know? I was invited along with Tristo for a simple trip and the king happened to be married while we were there."

"I hardly think it fitting that I was not attending or even invited for that matter. Where are Faramir and Eowyn?"

"They stayed for the rest of the celebrations. They'll be there another week."

Aragorn stomped his foot on the ground. "I'm going to Rohan. I shall publicly ask the king _why_ I was so rudely treated."

Arwen smiled and whispered so that he could not hear her "I think you'll _love_ the answer!"

Aragorn rode quickly on Brego. Legolas flanked him on his own white steed. Behind them were a dozen or so soldiers.

They had sent a messenger ahead to announce their arrival.

As the party made to enter into Rohan they saw another party of soldiers riding to meet them. There looked to be about forty men: riders of Rohan.

Aragorn stopped his horse, and held up his hand signaling the rest of his party to do the same.

The captain of the riders of the Mark stopped his horse in front of Aragorn.

"Good day, noble King."

"Good day captain. What business brings you here?"

The captain took off his helmet. He looked to be around forty five, with a scratchy beard and brown eyes. "We have been sent to welcome you into our land by King Eomer and his queen."

Confused, Aragorn looked to Legolas who simply shrugged. "I thank you for your pains captain. I do not understand the necessity of this action though."

"Well…" began the man nervously. "…we are also here to inform you that the elf, your companion, is not allowed within our borders."

Aragorn's horse reared as he himself sat up in anger. "I beg your pardon?"

"By decree of the king of Rohan, Eomer, Legolas Greenleaf is not allowed within the borders of Rohan or any lands belonging to the nation." The captain took a piece of parchment out of his breast and held it out to Aragorn. It stated the aforementioned and had the seal and signature of the king.

Aragorn looked to Legolas. "Go on Elessar, I shall return to Gondor. I see no point to fight this. Send news of your journey.

"First though, I must discuss with you the business of…" he then whispered something into Aragorn's ear. The two rode their horses off to a secluded spot about one hundred yards away from the rest of the group so that they could converse without being heard.

"What do you think? Could it be some sort of trap?" asked Legolas.

"No, Eomer has no reason to trap me. Forgetting to invite me to his wedding was a cut, I'll admit. But if we were at war he would not have let my son return to Gondor. I do not think that there is any threat to me, but I do worry about this insult. It is the second one in a week. What do you think?"

Legolas sighed. "Honestly I care not to go into Rohan presently anyway. I am insulted but I'm sure there's simply been some sort of misunderstanding if you don't think there's a security threat. I just want to know what's going on; it's probably best that you go."

"I mean to go, for I mean to find out what on earth is going on!"


End file.
